Prince Caspian: Suspian Rewrite
by I Need A Better Name
Summary: A retelling of the movie Prince Caspian, but now jam-packed with Suspian fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**All right****, here we go. **

**It's the first chapter of Prince Caspian: Suspian Remix**

**Now this is my first fan fiction, but I've been sitting on this for a while, and I'm eager to find out what everyone thinks of it**

**Enjoy! (I hope)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to the series, don't you think I would have put all of this in the actual movie? Would've been nice**

Prince Caspian was a man who had always accorded the utmost importance to his dreams.

Most Telmarines thought that dreams were useless, fantasies that the mind created to amuse itself at night. In fact, it had been centuries since anyone had really considered his or her dreams important.

It had been thirteen centuries since anyone had cared, to be more precise.

But His Highness always cared about his dreams. Sometimes, aspects of them came true. He'd once dreamt about a herd of horses, soon after his fourteenth birthday. The next day, he'd received Destrier, his beautiful black stallion. When he was six years old, he'd dreamed that his father was far away, and there was no way for the little boy to reach him. A week later, he received the news that his father had died suddenly in his sleep.

Yes, Caspian often had dreams that fulfilled themselves, in good ways or in bad ways, and so he paid great attention to them, wondering which parts would be realized soon enough, which parts would come true.

And he fiercely hoped that _this_ dream in particular would come true…

_He was in a forest. All around trees were swaying to the breeze, almost as if they were _dancing_._

_There was an aura of total peace surrounding him. There was laughter and joy enveloping everything._

_Flower petals were blowing in the wind, shaping into the forms of women, pausing to smile and wave at him. _

_Mythical creatures were visible in the distance. Dwarves and Minotaurs. Was that a centaur? He'd only ever heard about such Creatures from his professor's tales. Old Narnians, that's what they were. But they were extinct. And yet they were here, strolling around casually, completely at ease, as if they belonged there, as if this was their home, and always had been. _

_Birds were whispering amongst themselves and to other creatures, in a language he could have understood with no trouble, if he had been paying attention._

_But he wasn't paying attention. Not at all. The only thing he could concentrate was the woman in front of him. She was the most incredible lady he had ever seen._

_Her hair was deep brown and glossy, and he was sure that if he touched it, it would be softer and smoother than the finest of silks. Oh, how he longed to touch it. The desire made him ache._

_Her skin was pale, delicate. But the setting sun gave it a golden glow, as if she was an angel, and looking at her perfect face, he was positive that she was. There was no other explanation for her smooth skin, her plump lips, and her curvy frame. Mere humans couldn't possibly have traits so ideal, so flawless… What other explanation was there for those eyes?_

_Oh, her eyes… They were so wonderful it almost hurt to look at them. Born and raised amongst the Telmarines, where everyone had eyes of a deep brown, he'd never seen eyes of a different colour than that; he had never seen any like hers._

_They were blue; bluer than he'd known was even possible. It was as if the sky had fallen into the girl's eyes and clung to them, held on for dear life. He felt as if he could simply look at her forever, and that would be perfectly fine with him. He would completely satisfied observing her face until he died, for no death could be unpleasant if he was permitted to look at her while it happened._

_She moved in closer, placing her hand on his cheek. She was so soft ad so warm. He placed his own hand over hers, revelling in the sensation. It felt perfect. Her hand fit so well when he held it in his own. He didn't ever want to let it go. He didn't ever want to let _her_ go. The thought upset him. It hurt him physically to think of her not touching him._

_She smiled at him – a beautiful smile, of course – and began to speak:_

"_Caspian…"_

_He cherished the way she said his name. It sounded so perfect coming from her mouth. Her accent was so strange, completely foreign to him. But like everything else about her, it was just right._

"_Caspian," she repeated, and he wished she'd say it again, whisper his name one more. _

"_Soon," the lady promised, adoration in her eyes._

_What was soon? He opened his mouth to inquire. He hoped that she meant that soon she would repeat his name in that melodious voice of hers. He lived for her voice. He would do anything she asked of him, if she used that voice. _

_But before he could ask what she meant, she darted towards him and slammed her hand over his mouth._

He jumped when he realised that someone was actually covering his mouth. His eyes flew open, only to be greeted by the sight of Professor Cornelius. It was dark out, so he probably wanted to take him stargazing. But not right now.

"Five more minutes," he requested, rolling over. He wanted to get back into his dream, and ask the lady what she meant. _Soon…_

But his professor did not allow him to do so. He started shaking him awake, with panic in his eyes and terror in his voice.

"You won't be watching the stars tonight, my prince."

Well, then what reason could have possessed his tutor to rouse him at this ungodly hour? And why did he sound so absolutely terrified? He wanted to slip back into the dream, if only to look at the woman. But Professor Cornelius always had a good reason for doing things. What could it be this time?

His confusion and irritation must have shown on his face, because the older man quickly added on:

"Come. We must hurry." Cornelius was strong for his age and pulled him out of bed.

"Professor, what is going on?" Caspian demanded, unable to hide he tremor in his voice.

"Your aunt has given birth. _To a son_."

It would seem the Professor had an _excellent_ reason to wake him up.

He knew Miraz wanted his throne. But rumours had said that Prunasprismia, Miraz's wife, had been incapable of producing a child. Her last three had died. So Caspian had reassured himself that he would be safe, since Miraz had no one but Caspian to take the throne when he died.

That was no longer the case.

Caspian hopped out of bed, allowing his tutor and closest friend lead him toward his hidden passageway, but not before drawing the curtains on his bed. He wondered briefly about his reason to do that, but put it out of his mind. He had other things to concern himself with.

He heard his door creak open. He froze, trying to catch a glimpse of the unwelcome visitor. But it was more than just one visitor.

He could see General Glozelle amongst the line of soldiers creeping into the room. Glozelle had always been nothing but kind to him. He was one of the only two men that Caspian trusted. The other man he trusted was currently trying to drag the young prince along, to prevent him from seeing what would surely be a terrible sight.

But Caspian could only watch, terrified, as the men made a ring around his bed. They raised their weapons – they were armed; that was surely a bad sign – and then looked at Glozelle. He gave the signal.

They fired.

Caspian realised he was shaking as he watched them. The arrows came over and over, striking his bed. They thought he was in his bed. They were trying to kill him. To destroy him while he was defenceless, without giving him so much as a chance to fight back.

As feathers floated through the air, emerging from the ruined bed, the soldiers clearly realised that he was not there. There was not a drop blood on the bed, let alone the helpless prince's corpse. They looked to each other, wondering what to do. Caspian knew that any second now, they would start looking for him. He allowed Professor Cornelius to lead him away. He needed to escape before it was too late.

He headed for the armoury, constantly checking over his shoulder for any sign of the enemy. He grabbed a studded jerkin and a sword. There was no time for anything more. His tutor threw a cloak over his shoulders.

They raced to the stables, and he got onto the first horse he saw. He could not saddle Destrier quickly enough, and so he had to leave him behind, albeit reluctantly. He did not trust any other horse as much as he trusted Destrier. He was the fastest, strongest horse in the stable, and Caspian had always felt as if Destrier could read his mind.

There was fear in the old man's eyes as he advised the young man.

"You must make for the woods."

"The woods?" Caspian was confused. No one ever went into the woods. It was mostly superstition, fear of the Narnians that had once called the forest home. Many realised such things were crazy, that these fearsome things were extinct, and had been for a long time, but no one dared to enter, just in case. Telmarines were not generally superstitious, but they did worry about the spirits of their victims.

"They won't follow you there." But while Caspian could think of many places where he would not be followed, he did not realise just how important his destination was. He bit back his retort, aware that this was not the time to argue.

As Caspian mounted the horse he did not know, the professor rapidly fumbled for something. The young prince took a look. It was an ivory horn, with a roaring lion carved into the end. He could not remember where he'd seen it. But it was clearly of great importance.

"It has taken me many years to find this. Do not use it except at your greatest need."

This time, Caspian understood the danger that lay behind his friend's words. He knew there was a good chance that he would die tonight.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked quietly. Almost resigned to his fate. That was bad.

"I dearly hope so, my Prince. There is so much more I'm meant to teach you." The professor grabbed his arm, willing him to understand what would happen. "_Everything you know is about to change_."

A man's scream distracted them, and then Caspian was off. He rushed through the courtyard, where soldiers tried desperately to block him. But nothing could stop him. As he hurried across the drawbridge, fireworks exploded, celebrating the birth of Miraz's son. But he was not celebrating, as he saw several soldiers racing to him.

Caspian raced across the land. The wind whipped through his hair, burned his eyes, and made his cloak billow out behind him. In the past, he had loved such things. He would race his horse at full speed, adrenaline pumping. Races had exhilarated him. But he knew that after this – if there was an after, if his life did not end this very night – he would never be able to race again without remembering this frightful experience.

As he reached the river, he was met with a dilemma. He had never been here before, and did not know how deep the river was. It was entirely likely that if he tried to cross, he would not be able to make it all the way across. But as he heard the soldiers approaching, even closer now than before, he made a decision.

He spurred his horse, and stampeded into the water. It was a rather shallow river, but he couldn't help but feel nervous as the water rose higher than his waist. His horse threw his head back, trying to keep it out of the water. But in the end, he made it across to the other side.

Sparing a glance back at all of the men who were chasing him, Caspian saw several of them falling over in the water. He couldn't help but smile smugly at their unsuccessful attempt to cross the expanse, but did not slow down. They would succeed eventually, and he wanted as much distance between them as possible.

It was then that Caspian reached the woods.

Fear shot through him. Was he truly safe here? Or was Professor Cornelius mistaken? Was this forest more dangerous than even the soldiers? Well, this was not the time to start doubting his only ally's advice. The professor would never willingly lead him to danger. Of course, he had thought the same of Glozelle, and now look at him. Glozelle was the one leading these crazy men.

_Let my ancestors' wisdom guide me_, he thought to himself. The woods were dangerous, but if he stayed in place, he would surely be killed. _The woods it is_.

He raced ahead, the trees looking like nothing more than dark blurs. He shot a look over his shoulder, praying frantically that the men had not yet been successful in their attempt to cross the river. He could not quite see them. He stared harder, and was so wrapped up in trying to see them that he did not notice the low-hanging tree branch directly in front of him.

Caspian turned his head around just in time to see it, before it collided with his face with enough impact to knock him off of his horse. He was silently grateful no one had seen that. Or he would've been, had he been able to concentrate on anything but the pain that came to him. He lay on the ground for a moment, in agony. And then he realised his horse had not stopped moving.

That damned creature dragged him along. He could feel the ground beneath him, burning his back, adding to his already considerable amount of pain. He tried frantically to remove his foot from the stirrup, but his exhaustion made it seem like an insurmountable task. As he finally yanked his foot, he prayed desperately once more, this time for the pain to go away.

But it didn't. So he raised his head to gain some degree of awareness of his surroundings, despite the screaming protest his body issued at the simple action.

Caspian could only see vaguely. The trees hid most of the moon, and his vision was spotted from the blow to his head. His hearing, much less impaired than his sight, told him that his horse had run away. But his eyes could barely make out the vision of a column of smoke. Was something on fire? No, there was a chimney. A chimney? In the woods? He peered closer. Did he spy a house? Yes. But what was coming out of the house was much more important.

He could make out two men. They seemed very small, but he assumed that they must be far away. But his musings at the pair's size flew out of his head as he noticed that one of them had pulled out a knife. The man ran towards him, and Caspian estimated the distance between himself and his sword. He couldn't reach it before the man – who he was now absolutely positive was very small – would reach him. But he did have something closer that might be of service.

Caspian looked at his horn, and the little man with the knife followed his gaze. Why did his latest assailant's eyes widen so much as he looked between the young man and the horn?

_What_ is_ it about that horn? What makes it so special?_

Well, whatever it was, it would seem he owed the horn his life, because the little man paused, as if debating what to do with this new development.

And then the Telmarines arrived.

The short man had obviously deemed him the lesser of two evils, because he did not finish him off first. Instead he called out to his companion.

"You take care o' him," he instructed, and Caspian's blood chilled. Take care, as in kill? The man raced off towards the soldiers.

But Caspian did not feel relief, because the little man's equally little companion was now running towards him. Caspian thought of his professor's words about the ivory horn: "Use it only at your greatest need."

_I have soldiers trying to kill me, a small_ thing_ trying to kill me, no horse, and my sword is out of reach. This qualifies as great need._

He lunged for the horn, frantic to get help. The short man lunged for him, furiously trying to stop him.

"No!" the little one cried out.

But Caspian didn't stop. He brought the horn to his lips, and blew with all the strength he had. But no one came. Damn. He had expected, rather foolishly, for immediate aid. Instead, he got a swift blow to the head from the little man.

The pain was more than he could handle, but his body struggled for consciousness. He let his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, and the beautiful woman he had dreamed about appeared behind his eyelids. She beckoned him towards her, her eyes kind and her smile inviting.

"Don't be scared, Caspian. Come join me."

Caspian remembered his earlier thought. He was sure that his death would be much more tolerable, so long as he was looking at her while it happened. He still believed that unconditionally. So he gave up the fight to stay awake, and allowed himself to join the woman in the realm of unconsciousness.

**So, that's the first chapter.**

**Right now, it's basically the same, with just Caspian's thought process altered.**

**But pretty soon, there will some editing to the story, to make room for some Suspian fluff.**

**It's pretty short right now, but I'm still sticking to the story. Once I start to change the story, I can make it as long as I want! Plus, finger cramps!**

**Please review. I'll love you forever! Or at least until the next chapter, where you'll have to review again to win back my love.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Own the rights to the Chronicles of Narnia? I wish!**

**Now, with no further ado, Chapter Two. Hey, that rhymed!**

Susan was tired. No, not tired. Tired was not a word strong enough to describe how she felt. Exhausted was better, but still only skimmed the surface. She could barely lift her limbs.

You see, Susan Pevensie knew a good deal about sleepless nights. She had had many of them. Often during her reign, she was so consumed by thoughts and plans and laws and wars that the mere notion of sleep had seemed ridiculous. How could she be expected to sleep when her people needed her?

Damn. She'd thought of Narnia again. Some days it was quite simple to pretend that she was a normal girl, to hide how much older she was than her classmates, and how incredibly fascinating her life had been. She'd mastered such a charade, pretending to be utterly normal, even boring. But she loathed every minute of it. She longed for the world where she was respected and adored by wonderful creatures.

Some days she could feel the queen beneath the woman, struggling to get and show her uninteresting comrades her true self. Some days she truly seemed like a queen. But it was not difficult to hide her today. After all, it was very difficult to be regal when you were yawning constantly.

It wasn't that she had difficulty falling asleep. Indeed, she would fall asleep minutes after her head hit the pillow. But her dreams interrupted that slumber. Or rather, dream.

For the past week, she had dreamt of a man…

_She looked around her, trying to gain some awareness of her surroundings. She could see Centaurs, Red Dwarves, and Fauns, strolling calmly, at home. So this was Narnia?_

_It certainly didn't look like Narnia. There were less trees, or Trees, and the hills were smaller. Yet, it seemed to have the spirit of Narnia within it. So perhaps it was not a matter of where, but of when._

_She looked around, observing her home, and then her eyes fell on _him_. The cause of her dreams, the bane of her existence, the most wonderful creature to ever walk the land. _

_He was handsome, to put it lightly. His dark hair fell in shaggy waves across his face. His simple clothes did not hide his trim waist nor his muscular arms. His skin was tanned, sun-kissed. But his best quality was his face. What little part of it that was not hidden by his hair was more perfect than could possibly be fair. _

_His mouth was not too fleshy, like other men she'd seen, nor was it too thin. He had a strong jaw, with a cleft chin - a noble chin, as her mother would have put it. And his eyes… Chocolate-coloured orbs, that seemed to show his every expression. There was joy, devotion, adoration, and … desire? The thought excited her._

_He walked towards her, and it was all she could do to breathe normally. He smiled at her, and tenderly – more tenderly than she'd thought such a strong man was capable of – he took her hand and kissed it._

"_My queen, I…" he'd begin, a sweet look on his face._

That was when she would wake up.

The worst part was that after that dream, she could never fall back asleep. No matter what she tried. She'd tried warm milk, counting sheep; she'd even tried reading a schoolbook cover to cover, hoping that she'd be so bored she'd nod off. But her mind refused to allow her to rest after dreaming of the handsome man she did not know.

So now, Susan was exhausted. She could barely keep her eyes open as she leafed through a magazine, waiting until it was time to board her train and head off to school.

_Oh, no_, she thought to herself. A boy she'd seen occasionally from school, one of the annoying ones who constantly stared at her, was sidling up to her. She tried not to roll her eyes as he struck up a conversation.

"You go to St. Thimbart's," he stated brilliantly.

"That's right," she said, wishing that he would go away.

"I go to Henden House, across the road. I've seen you. Sitting by yourself."

"Yes, well… I prefer to be left alone." She was not being particularly polite, but irritability was one of the symptoms of a lack of sleep. And with the amount of sleep she'd gotten, it was impressive that she had not yet hit somebody.

"Me too!" Susan could not resist the urge to roll her eyes anymore. Couldn't he take a hint? "What's your name?"

The idea of this irritating boy knowing her name displeased her greatly. Why did he want it? Was he going to ask around about her? Not if she could help it!

"Phyllis." There, he was Phyllis Lindstrom's problem now. Ha. She had always hated Phyllis. She was such a dreadful snob.

"Susan! You'd better come quickly," her little sister called out. Susan was almost grateful to Lucy. Perhaps now this boy would get the message.

Susan followed Lucy to the Underground, where everyone was crowded around several brawling boys. Oh, no. Peter was among them. This was his third fight this month. He was always getting into fights, usually against more boys than he could handle, and then Edmund had to step in and help him.

_Speak of the devil and he shall come_, Susan thought to herself. Edmund had just jumped into the pile. Was it too much to ask that they ignore these _children_ when they tried to provoke them? She didn't think so, and neither did Lucy. But her brothers simply couldn't take the high road.

Fortunately, a soldier came and broke up the fight. The spectators scattered, leaving the Pevensie girls to deal with their troublesome brothers.

"You're welcome," Edmund snapped, looking irritated with his so-called magnificent brother.

"I had it sorted," came Peter's rude reply.

Susan could have laughed. Sorted? Not a single one of them had anything sorted! They were empty shells, their hearts and souls and minds – but not their egos in Peter's case – in a different world. There was nothing left of them here that they could possibly sort. She felt like screaming this at her brother, but she went with the more peaceful, and annoying:

"Really, Peter. Was it that hard just to walk away?"

She already knew how Peter would respond. He would defend himself, insult whoever it was that had annoyed him, and gripe about the fact that no one treated him with respect here. They acted like he was a stupid schoolboy, instead of the legendary High King of Narnia.

It never seemed to occur to him that no one had any reason to treat him with respect here. He was rude, antisocial, and didn't put the slightest bit of effort into his studies. They were all like that. They had no reason to do these things, so they didn't. As a result, the Pevensies were now referred to as "problem children."

Susan was so wrapped up in her musings about their dreadful life in England, that she didn't hear a word her siblings said. She only snapped out of her trance when she noticed the spectacled boy coming towards her. _Not again_…

"Quick pretend you're talking to me," she begged her family. She couldn't bear to try and smile while the boy prattled on. She was too tired, and was likely to hit him.

"We are talking to you," Edmund pointed out. That boy wasn't satisfied unless he was annoying someone with his sarcasm.

"Ow!" Lucy cried out. She jumped off the bench to stare accusingly at her family. "Something pinched me!"

"Hey!" Peter shouted, "Stop pulling!"

"I'm not touching you!" Edmund defended himself.

A train shot past them, faster than Susan had realized was possible. Actually, it wasn't possible. Something was happening…

"It feels like magic!" Lucy smiled triumphantly.

The walls seemed to be peeling away. The wrought iron arch blew away as if it was as heavy as a feather. If that giant structure could disappear so quickly, what would happen to them?

"Quick, everyone hold hands."

"I'm not holding your hand!" Edmund cried out to Peter. All right, now was _not_ the time for his reluctancy for human contact.

Peter grabbed his hand anyway, and they stared ahead of them. The walls were crumbling now. But Susan was not afraid. Because although the crumbling walls ought to have revealed dirt, a beach was appearing by degrees. This couldn't be what they thought it was, hoped it was, and needed it to be. After all, the last time they'd gone to Narnia, they had walked through a wardrobe. They hadn't been pulled from a destroyed train station.

Yet, there was no sign of the train station now. It looked now like they were standing in a cave, just beyond the beach. Susan could feel her bad mood slip away as they stepped onto the beach. White sand and blue water… It was as picturesque as always.

It was home.

Susan could feel the smile break over her face, a sensation so unfamiliar to her. She couldn't help but appreciate the irony. They had spent a year complaining that no one treated them like adults, and yet the minute they were home, they were running into the water, shrieking and splashing like infants. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too happy.

She faintly wondered why they were still teenagers. If they were back in Narnia, shouldn't they look life before? How would their friends recognize them now?

The truth arrived in the form of Edmund's insatiable curiosity.

"Where do you suppose we are?" he asked, looking up at hill. Susan laughed. Wasn't it obvious? Peter shared her disbelief.

"It's just, I don't remember any ruins in Narnia."

There was confusion in everyone's eyes. They reluctantly waded out of the water, towards the hill the Just one was indicating. It seemed hauntingly familiar.

They took in the remains scattered across the grass. Marble columns, stone floors… Whatever had been here, it had been grand. Wait, what was that on the ground?

It was the black knight, from a chess set. Edmund had had one just like it. It was a lovely set, but his black knight had a long scratch on its back, from when Susan had thrown it at Peter while he had been sharpening his sword. He'd raised the weapon to smack it out of the way, but the sword was so sharp that it had left a knick.

Hang on; this knight had the same scratch. But it couldn't possibly be the same. But, it was. How did it get here? Unless…

"I wonder who lived here?" Lucy thought out loud.

"I think we did," Susan said, shocked. Was this their home? Had so much changed since they'd been gone?

"Hey, that's mine," Edmund remarked, catching a glimpse of the piece of their past in Susan's hand. "It's from my chess set."

"Which chess set?" Peter inquired.

Susan paid no attention to Edmund's response. No doubt it was something sarcastic, something she didn't actually need to hear. She was too lost in her own thoughts.

"What is this place?" She was afraid of the answer. If it was the one she suspected, than something very, very bad had happened during their absence.

Lucy seemed to have the same idea. She pulled them all together, instructing them to use their imagination. To picture a glass roof, and columns. As if they were seeing it. And she could. She could picture …

"Cair Paravel." Peter's voice was filled with wonder. He was seeing what had been. He was remembering the glory of their former castle. But it was her younger brother seemed to be the one searching for the dark times. He was the one searching for a clue as to why the marvellous palace lay in ruins.

"Catapults," came her little brother's shocked voice. "Cair Paravel was attacked."

Susan felt as if her world were crumbling.

Some one had attacked the castle. Why? Hadn't the army defended it? Or had they let it be destroyed out of spite? Perhaps as retribution for their disappearance, which had made it seem like they'd abandoned them.

No. That was impossible. The Narnians had surely known that their Kings and Queens would never have abandoned them. And even if they had believed such a thing, they would have protected Cair Paravel to their last breath.

Last breath. Whoever attacked the castle, had they attacked the inhabitants as well? Were their subjects unsafe? Or worse?

Her brothers were the first to act. They moved over, in search of a hidden room. The treasure hold. If this really were Cair Paravel, there would be a room filled with their most precious possessions hidden behind a wall of stone.

A thick stone block moved away under the boys' combined effort, and her heart sank. So this _was_ their home that had been destroyed. She watched as Peter pulled away parts of the door. The wood was rotting. So they'd been gone for a long time, then.

Well, without any light, they would surely stumble and fall. This thought seemed to occur to Peter, because he tore a piece if his shirt off, and wrapped it around a twig. It was actually quite a funny sight.

"I don't suppose you'd have any matches?" Typical Peter. Do something, and ask for help afterwards.

"Do you think this will do?" Edmund pulled out his new torch, which Lucy seemed to find incredibly funny.

Peter's reaction made Susan want to weep for joy. His outrage and irritation were playful, the sign of a man who had regained his good humour. They had been here a matter of mere minutes, and already Peter's character was returning to its normal, only slightly annoying, self.

Slowly, reverently, they walked down the stairs. No matter how long they had been away, the room was intact. They each headed to their treasure chest. Lucy smiled as she lifted up her favourite gold dress.

"I was so tall," she pointed out, smiling.

"You were older then." Susan couldn't help but smile at her sister's wistful expression.

"As opposed to hundred of years later, when you're younger." Any attempt Edmund made at seeming mature flew out the window as they caught sight of him in a very large battle helmet. He'd taken it off of a Minotaur one day, during a battle. He'd always sworn that some day, he'd be big enough to wear it. It certainly didn't fit him now.

Susan just smiled at the amusing sight of her younger sibling, who was now trying to pick up an axe he'd taken from that Minotaur. He was staggering under the weight. He'd done that when he'd obtained it, as well.

She looked through her own chest. There were dresses, and jewels, and … her bow! She lifted it up as carefully as you or I might pick up a newborn. She had felt too light, without her quiver of arrows strapped to her back and her bow in her hand. But wait. Where was her other treasure?

"My horn," she mused, upset. "I must have left it on my saddle. The day we went back."

She could only hope that it was in good hands.

They were dressed now. Susan felt so much better wearing her beautiful purple dress than her school uniform. She _looked_ better, in any case.

They wandered along the beach, searching for something, anything. They didn't have the slightest idea where to start looking for Narnians. Where they far away? Did they even exist anymore?

She heard some one speak. Whoever it was, they weren't very far away. She walked closer to the sound of the voice. It was two soldiers in a boat. They were picking something up. Was that a Dwarf? Aslan's Mane, they were trying to drown him! Not if she could help it. She pulled an arrow, and aimed it towards the boat. She was the Gentle one. She felt the need to at least warn them.

"Drop him!" she shouted to the bewildered Telmarines. They took her order a bit too literally, and dropped him into the water. Her brothers dove in after him.

She saw one soldier pick up his crossbow. If he was using crossbow, it might a soldier from Terebinthia or Telmar. In most kingdoms, longbows like hers were vastly preferred.

Hang on. He was aiming towards her! She felt her mercy slip away, and she shot him squarely in the chest. He fell into the water, screaming, and his cowardly companion dove in after him.

Susan and Lucy watched, concerned, as Peter emerged with the Red Dwarf. Lucy pulled out her dagger – she relished opportunities to use her Christmas gift, if it was in a nonviolent way – and cut at his bindings. He coughed up a lungful of water and then glared at Susan.

"Drop him?!" he roared as loudly as a Dwarf _could_ roar. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," she snapped back at him. Was this the gratitude she got for saving his life?

"… Telmarines. That's what they do," the dwarf was saying. She'd tuned out to fume, and had only caught the last bit. So she'd been right. They were Telmarines.

"Telmarines? In Narnia?" Edmund reflected his siblings' thoughts.

"Where have you been for the last few hundred years?" the Dwarf grumbled. Few hundred years? So they really _had_ been gone a long time.

The little Dwarf, who we know as Trumpkin, caught sight of Peter's sword, and a mixture of dismay and irritation crossed his face.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whined. "You're it? You're the kings and Queens of Old?"

Peter introduced himself with his title, and Susan laughed inside. He'd always been so proud that the great Aslan had given him such a wonderful title, but it usually came across as boastful.

Noticing Trumpkin's painfully obvious contempt for the legendary family, Peter issued him a challenge. Trumpkin would have a swordfight with Edmund. The monarchs secretly felt bad for Trumpkin. Edmund hadn't been defeated yet.

And true to form, Edmund was crucifying the Dwarf. He fought so effortlessly that he hardly ever seemed conscious of the fact that he was fighting. In a matter of seconds, Peter's sword lay abandoned, and the smaller rival fell down in shock.

"Beards and bedsteads! Maybe that horn worked after all."

"What horn?" What could a horn have to do with a swordfight?

"You don't know?" Trumpkin's face was now even more shocked than before, if such a thing was actually possible. "Oh, of course you don't. The prophecy was written centuries after you left."

"Prophecy?" came Lucy's stunned voice. "What did the prophecy say?"

Trumpkin began to recite the prophecy that every Narnian knew off by heart.

"_In an age when hope has been lost _

_And dark-eyed tyrants rule the land, _

_A Prince of the line of Caspians,_

_Which over Narnia command,_

_Who fled from what was nearly his death,_

_Will use what was nearly his final breath_

_To blow in the horn of the ancient Queen_

_And our ancient rulers will be soon be seen._

_A massive war will then go down_

_To help the Prince regain his crown"_

"At least that one actually rhymed," Susan remarked, a touch of mirth crinkling her eyes.

"A prince of the line of Caspians? What does that mean?" Peter asked, puzzled by this prophecy.

Trumpkin sighed and explained, the way one would explain things to a "slow" child:

"The Telmarines invaded Narnia ten years after you left, about thirteen hundred years ago. The general leading the army was Caspian the Conqueror. When they took possession of the land, he was named king. His descendant, Prince Caspian the Third or Ninth or Twelfth, or whatever number he is, would someday blow on the horn, and bring you back. He'd be fleeing from something dangerous - someone after his throne, most likely – and you four'd help go into battle to get it back for him."

"Do you think that's what happened?" Susan asked, nervous at the thought of someone else using her horn.

"Well," Trumpkin replied, "last night some Telmarine boy came into the woods last night, with soldiers chasing after him. He blew the horn when my friend Nikabrik attacked him. Now you're here. It ain't just anyone that could've summoned you. I'm thinking that's our man. Now all we got to do is find him. Provided he's still alive."

The four Pevensies looked at each other, silently communicating. Peter spoke for them:

"All right. Let's find Prince Caspian."

They had no idea what they had just set in motion.

**Okay, that was chapter two**

**I've added a bit at the end, but the real editing starts in the next chapter.**

**Oh, and if I haven't posted Chapter 3 by Friday, then it won't be up at least until the twelfth, because… I'm going to Europe! Yippee!**

**And I know, Susan seemed kind of bitchy in this chapter, but she hasn't slept in days. She is just really cranky. She'll be better in the next chapter. I swear.**

**Please review! Pretty please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third chapter**

**Sorry for the delay, but I've been horrifyingly jet-lagged. And yes, Europe was **_**awesome**_

**Disclaimer: Own the rights? It'd be nice **

Caspian was coming awake by degrees. He had always hated waking up. Sleep was so pleasant an experience. He hated to interrupt it for any reason. And he especially didn't want to interrupt his sleep _now_. He'd been dreaming of the woman again. It had been an amusing dream. She would repeat that word again – _Soon_ – and then scamper off, laughing as she did so. He had finally caught up with her, and she'd smiled and brought her lips close to his own. And just when he was about to kiss her…

He'd woken up.

He blinked at the light all near him. Huh. Usually, it was much brighter in his room, because the sun was always high up in the sky by the time he woke up on his own. He blamed the blasted windows. It had been one of Miraz's cruel jokes, to put the castle's sleepyhead in the room that was the most brightly lit. So why wasn't it brighter now?

Oh right, he wasn't in the castle anymore. He nearly groaned out loud when he realized how much his head hurt. But then he remembered that he was not in his chambers. It would be unwise to let his captors know that he was conscious.

Were these captors friendlier than Miraz? Or would have been better off left in the woods, begging the soldiers for his life? Well, they clearly were not as bad as Miraz. They had bandaged his head.

The thought would have made him laugh, if one of the men's voices had sounded, loud and clear.

"Ugh. This bread is so stale."

"I'll just give him so soup then." Definitely better than Miraz. They would let him live long enough to eat.

"Well, I say I didn't hit him hard enough."

"Nikabrik, he's just a boy!"

Nikabrik? That was the man's name? It was the strangest name Caspian had ever heard, with the exception of a serving maid, who'd had he misfortune of being named Hepzibah. Now _that_ was a truly terrible name.

"We can't kill him now! I just bandaged his head. It… it would be like murdering a guest."

"And how do you think his friends are treating their guests?" the man called Nikabrik demanded.

Caspian's heart raced. This Nikabrik was determined to kill him. He was clearly the more forceful one of the pair. He would get his way quickly enough. And then Caspian would die. He had to get out now, or he would never walk out on his own feet.

He made a mad dash for the door, noticing in passing that everything in the tiny little house was… well… tiny. The short man, probably the Nikabrik in question, let out a furious cry as Caspian shoved everything out of his way, and the tiny man pulled out a sword. Cursing himself for not thinking to grab his sword, Caspian grabbed a poker from the fireplace.

It was a very strange sight to see, with a tiny man with a huge sword, and a tall boy defending himself with a tool from the fireplace. It only lasted for a few jabs, before Nikabrik's companion – _Was that a badger? –_ started shouting.

'Enough, Nikabrik! Enough!" the badger-like thing shouted.

"I still say we should have killed him when we had the chance," Nikabrik sneered.

"You know why we can't!" the thing, that Caspian refused to acknowledge, was a badger cried out.

_Well,_ Caspian thought dryly, _it seems I have found my ally_.

"If we're taking a vote, I'm with him." As foolhardy as it was, Caspian couldn't resist taking a stab, verbal or otherwise, at the man.

"Enough, Nikabrik! Or do I have to sit on your head again?" It was obvious by the way Nikabrik pouted that the badger – Caspian couldn't deny it any longer; that was a badger – was completely serious.

"And you!" The badger glared at Caspian. "Look what you made me do! I spent half the morning on that soup."

Caspian could only stare as the badger walked over to the pantry, on its hind legs. What were these creatures?

"W-what are you?" Caspian asked shakily. He had a theory.

These were no ordinary creatures. This badger that could walk and talk and behave like a human – was he a Badger? A talking Badger of Narnia? A Narnian? If he was a Narnian, perhaps the Badger's violent little companion was a Narnian as well. He fit all the characteristics of a Black Dwarf.

"You-you're Narnians?" They did not deny this fact. They were behaving as if he had stated something simple, rather than drawing a conclusion that shattered his neat little world. "You're supposed to be extinct."

"Sorry to disappoint you," the dwarf stated sourly.

The Badger placed a bowl of soup on the minuscule table.

"Still hot," the animal said, almost maternally. Or at least, Caspian imagined it was maternal. He had no memory of his own mother.

As he looked at the soup, he felt a surge of irritation. He had just discovered the existence of a species that ought to be extinct, of an entire people even, and the Thing was speaking of soup?!

"Since when did we open a boarding house for Telmarine soldiers?" It would seem that Caspian was not the only one annoyed by the innocent bowl on the table.

"I'm not a soldier," he barked, his irritation for Nikabrik growing with every passing second. The presumptuous little pain. "I am Prince Caspian. The tenth."

He understood the shock in Nikabrik's eyes. But what he most certainly did not understand was why the Badger's eyes seemed to light up with something. If Caspian had not known any better. He would have called it _hope_. Why would a Narnian ever be happy to meet a Telmarine, even if it was a prince and not a soldier?

"Well, what are you doing here?" Was it Caspian's imagination, or had Nikabrik's voice softened, almost sounding caring.

Caspian considered the query. It was innocent enough. Surely, the knowledge of his uncle's son, his own cousin's birth, would not reach creatures living in the forest. It would be simple to give him an answer. To merely state such a fact was no difficult chore. But instead, he examined the truth. He had run away, because the only living family he had, wanted him to die. He had never believed Miraz cared for him, but he had no idea of the seething hate that had burst the previous night.

"Running away," he admitted quietly. Once the words began, they could not stop. "My uncle has always wanted my throne. I suppose I have only lived this long because he did not have an heir of his own."

"Well, that changes things," the badger eventually commented. What did this change?

"Yeah," Nikabrik added cruelly, "at least we don't have to kill you ourselves."

The young prince thought of the Dwarf's words. They wouldn't kill him. But Miraz certainly would. He wanted his child on the throne after him, and Caspian stood in the way. Caspian knew enough of his uncle to understand how Miraz dealt with obstacles. He dealt with them the same way all Telmarines did: by destroying them.

He thought of the kind-hearted badger, and the dwarf that had attacked the soldiers the night before. He didn't want them to get hurt. They would not be harmed if Miraz could rest easy. He made his decision.

"You're right." He grabbed his jerkin and his sword.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"My uncle won't stop until I am dead." He headed for the door.

"But you can't leave! You're meant to save us." Caspian turned around in confusion at the Badger's words. The Animal pulled the horn that Caspian had used the night before. "Don't you know what this is?"

"It is a horn," the young man stated, confused. "What is so important about a horn?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" the Dwarf shouted. "What you got there, boy, is Queen's Susan's magical horn. The one in the prophecy."

"What prophecy?" Why did the Professor give him something so old and valuable? And how had he gotten his hands on it?

"Youngsters today, don't know nothing about prophecies," was muttered under Nikabrik's breath, along with a few colourful words that I will not repeat.

So the Badger, who is of course Trufflehunter, began to recite the prophecy, much like his friend had done far off, only a few hours before.

"_In an age when hope has been lost _

_And dark-eyed tyrants rule the land, _

_A Prince of the line of Caspians,_

_Which over Narnia command,_

_Who fled from what was nearly his death,_

_Will use what was nearly his final breath_

_To blow in the horn of the ancient Queen_

_And our ancient rulers will soon be seen._

_A massive war will then go down_

_To help the Prince regain his crown"_

Caspian could only stare in shock for a minute.

"Y-y-you mean, I am to help you? To save you?"

"Along with the Kings and Queens of Old. If you are truly the one from the prophecy, then you called them last night. They could be here in Narnia right now." Trufflehunter looked terribly excited by the prospect, and even Nikabrik had a smile peeking out.

"So what must I do?" Caspian inquired, feeling self-conscious. He would meet the legendary rulers, and they were to help him!

"We must wait for them to come to us," Trufflehunter announced. "I'll make some soup while we wait."

"Absolutely not," the prince insisted, surprised by the force in his voice. "I refuse to sit wait like a sitting duck. The soldiers may find me first. And the Kings and Queens of Old have no idea where we are. They would not knock on every door, searching for us."

Trufflehunter tried to persuade him otherwise. He didn't think it was safe for the boy, all alone in the forest. But Caspian did not acknowledge his pleas. This was his quest, and he would do as he saw fit.

Nikabrik was the one to speak up.

"Telmarine's got a point," he commented, and Caspian soured at his new nickname. "If he wants to go off, he should. But he's got to bring us with him. The fool can't fight off a tree branch, let alone an army. And we need him alive. You're of no use to us dead, so we're coming with you."

"There is no way. It could be dangerous out there, and I would not wish to put you in danger." Caspian looked over at the scowling Black Dwarf. "Well, perhaps it would not be so terrible to put _you_ in danger, but I would not harm your friend."

"Think, boy," Nikabrik growled at him. "You're a Telmarine, and when you're in the middle of the forest, away from your people, who do you thinks going to be the one in danger? You'd be killed before you could pull out the horn for evidence."

"I am no coward," came the young man's determined reply. "I can brave these woods on my own. And that," here he grabbed the horn off of the table, "is precisely what I will do."

He rushed out before they could stop him.

He heard a rustle, and he rolled his eyes. Did those two honestly believe they were being subtle? They had been trailing him ever since he had let their hut, and he was really starting to get annoyed. He turned around and glared.

"I can hear you."

If he had not been so peeved, he would have found their attempts at hiding quite comical. Nikabrik's stomach was far too round to be covered by the tree trunk.

The Badger was the first to voice his concerns.

"I just think we should wait for the Kings and Queens," he implored, but all he got for a response was a withering glare.

Caspian mentally cursed the two. They were supposedly so happy, and were calling him their saviour, and yet they clearly thought him incapable, didn't believe him to be enough. Were the ancient monarchs who had abandoned their own people actually more trustworthy than he was in the Narnians' eyes?

"Fine, go then!" Trufflehunter's response was amusingly huffy. "See if the others will be as understanding!"

Others?

"Or maybe I'll come with you," Nikabrik added, eagerly jogging up to his side. "I want you see you explain things to the Minotaurs."

"Minotaurs? They're real?" Caspian asked incredulously.

"Not to mention big," the irritating Dwarf added smugly.

"Huge."

Caspian was fascinated. He had realized that the Badger and the Dwarf were alive, but he had not considered whether anyone else would be.

"What about Centaurs?" he asked eagerly. "Do they still exist?"

"The Centaurs will fight on your side, in all likelihood," and Caspian felt a flash of hope. "But there's no telling what the others might do."

Caspian thought of his favourite nonhuman character from his professor's stories. The Great Lion.

"What about Aslan?"

The odd turned to look at him.

"How do you know so much about us?" Nikabrik's voice was heavy with suspicion.

"Well, stories." He should think it obvious.

"Your father told you stories of Narnia?"

Caspian tried not to wince. But it was difficult to think of his father.

"No, my professor." He could tell that the pair was curious, ready to ask some more questions, but they were questions he could not answer.

"I am sorry, but these are not the questions you should be asking me." He picked up his pace, trying desperately to keep his emotions in check.

"Wait," Trufflehunter sniffed the air, looking worried. "Human."

"Him?" Nikabrik asked, detection the fear in his friend's eyes.

"No. Them!"

There were Telmarine soldiers running towards him. It was all he could do to yell at his friends to run, before taking off himself. He tried not to turn around as the crossbow bolts whizzed past his face. He was afraid that if he looked at the men, he would recognize them, and the kind men whom he had spent his childhood with would be the ones about to murder him.

He heard a cry of pain behind, and saw Trufflehunter fall to the ground, a bolt sticking out of his leg. He instinctively ran to him, pushing Nikabrik out of the way. It would be easier for Caspian to run with him.

"Take it," Trufflehunter whispered weakly, handing him the horn Caspian had dropped during his mad dash. "It's far more important than I am."

Caspian frantically stuck the horn in his belt, and then he slung the wounded Animal over his shoulder. He ran to Nikabrik, and handed him his companion. Caspian was not going to run anymore. He would fight the men, or die honourably.

He saw a soldier aim his crossbow directly at him. That was it. The man could not miss him even if he tried. He waited for the soldier to shoot. But the man never got the chance to do so. Because at that moment, he keeled over, dead.

He had a bright red arrow in his chest.

Someone, who was armed with a bow and arrow, pushed him out of the way. The archer moved past him in a blur.

"Get away from them!" came a scream. A _woman's_ scream. This had obviously shocked the soldiers as much as it had shocked Caspian.

Whoever she was, she was good. She shot the first soldier to regain his wits before he'd finished raising his bow at her. But Caspian felt a stab of pity towards her as the men all aimed at her, ready to kill.

At that moment, Caspian watched as two men came from the left and right sides of the Telmarines, wielding swords. They ran towards them, protecting the woman and, indirectly, himself. As the soldiers pulled their blades to the two men, the woman started shooting again. And any adversary that set his sights on the woman was met with the sharp end of a sword. It was a perfectly choreographed dance of death, and Caspian could only watch entranced, until a small girl pulled him to the ground.

"Get down!" she cried.

After thirty seconds, the noise stopped. Nikabrik, Trufflehunter, and Caspian all raised their heads and looked around.

The two men, who were actually just boys, were wiping off their swords, which were covered in blood, heading back to the group. The young prince looked over at the bodies. Most of them had arrows in their chest, but a few had been slain by the boys. The woman had her back to them, headed over to retrieve her arrows.

The younger boy, who had curiously pale skin for one with such dark eyes and hair, spoke first, a giant smile on his face.

"Well, that went rather well, wouldn't you agree?"

The little girl spoke up.

"Must you smile so much? You could at least have a little respect for the men you killed!"

The blond boy piped in.

"Respect for them? Respect for Telmarine soldiers seeking to kill Narnians? Absolutely not!"

Wait, they knew the Dwarf and the Badger were Narnians? How was that possible?

"Well, at least Su has a little respect," the little girl retorted. "Right, Su?"

The girl known as Su just nodded to acknowledge the child's comment, and continued tugging her arrows out of the soldiers. When at last she finished, she started to turn towards them, and then froze. There was a rustle in the tall grass. Everyone turned warily to see who was advancing, but Caspian saw no one.

The rustle grew closer, and everyone looked worried. And then a brown streak came leaping out, crying triumphantly. The streak landed on the girl Su's chest, having succeeded in sending her falling to the ground. Caspian looked closer.

It was a mouse! Well, judging by the feathered headband and the rapier he was branding, it was most likely a Mouse.

"Choose your last words carefully, Telmarines! The five of you are finished!"

"You are a mouse." Caspian stated this with incredulity. Why must _everything_ be strange in this forest?

"Ugh! Always the same thing! Do you think I've forgotten my species? Well, no matter. My sword shall speak for itself."

"Reepicheep!" Trufflehunter cried frantically, laying a protective hand on Caspian. "You can't kill him!"

"And why not?"

"Because he's the one who blew the horn!" Everyone looked at Caspian, except for Su, who couldn't crane her neck and was trapped beneath Reepicheep.

"Well, all right. He may live. But these four are finished."

"You can't kill them," came a gruff voice. Trumpkin appeared from behind them.

"Trumpkin?" Nikabrik seemed shocked. "You're alive!"

"That's all well and good, but why should they live?"

"Because they're the ones he was calling."

Everyone stared at him. He sighed and elaborated.

"They're the ones the horn summons, they're the Kings and queens of Old."

"Aslan preserve us, it's true!" Reepicheep cried. He pointed to them each in turn. "High King Peter! And King Edmund! And Queen Lucy!"

"And the one you're standing on is Queen Susan," Edmund added in, with a sly smirk. This was just too funny.

Reepicheep seemed horrified with himself.

"Oh, Your Majesty! I meant no disrespect."

"It's fine, my good sir," Susan replied patiently. "But would you mind taking a few steps back?" Reepicheep looked down and saw that he was standing squarely between Susan's breasts. He blushed deeply, in the way only a mouse could blush. He stepped back carefully, before scampering off of her.

"My most sincere apologies, Your Majesty."

"Oh, relax, Reepicheep," Edmund cut in, smiling again. "You're hardly the first knight to try and get Susan on her back. I dare say that you're the first one that's managed."

Caspian was shocked, and not just by the Just King's lewd comment. He had expected regal, imposing figures, that clearly showed their true age, or at least in their thirties, as they had last been seen. Instead, there were four playful adolescents. This was quite a surprise to him, and he had to admit that he was a bit disappointed.

"Is something wrong?" Queen Lucy asked him, noting his expression.

"Well, I had thought you'd be older."

"Well if you like, we can come back in a few years." The High King's tone was playful, and Caspian was relieved. He had not offended them.

The Gentle Queen was lifting herself up.

"Could someone give me a hand?" she requested, slightly light-headed from being knocked over. Caspian automatically lifted her up, and then froze at what he saw.

It was her. _Her_.

The woman he had dreamt about, the one that had filled his every thought. He had been dreaming of Susan. And she was even more wonderful than he could have dreamt, which surprised him. Looking at her now, the midday sun hitting her face just right, he could see her more clearly. She was incredible. It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out and stroking her face.

Susan's breath hitched as she looked at him. _Him_. The handsome man from her dreams, it was the Prince Caspian they'd been so desperately seeking. He was unbelievable. The hand he'd offered up to her was soft and warm, and the arm she had grabbed to steady herself felt muscular beneath her fingertips. She was acutely aware that her hands burned in the loveliest way possible where they touched him.

They stared at each other, shocked, with an entirely new emotion brewing between them. They were totally oblivious to those that surrounded them.

Peter looked furious, the slight respect he had felt for his new ally slipping away. He had thought this Caspian a good man, and yet here he was, staring at his sister, just like all the others! He glared at Caspian. His trust in him was gone. Just like that.

After a moment, the pair broke apart, trying not to smile. But this was wonderful! A grin twitched at the Telmarine's lips. He had found his dream girl. He smiled. This was what she had meant by _Soon_.

Caspian had no idea how many things were going to happen _soon_.

**Okay, that's where things start to alter.**

**I will be doing some editing, adding things in, and throwing one **_**big**_** thing out. **

**I hope you like it. Review if you do! If you don't, well review anyways, but **_**lie**_** and give the **_**opposite**_** of your opinion. Lie right to my face. That'll show me!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am SO sorry that I haven't updated recently, but if you all had any idea how much stuff I'm doing right now, you'd forgive me at once. But I'm assuming you don't care about any of that, and most of you probably aren't even reading this part.**

**Disclaimer: You all know I own nothing**

**So to get to the actually important part, I present to you: Chapter Four!**

Caspian had been taught many lessons as a child. He'd been taught not to run away from a particularly grotesque lord, or to hide under his bed whenever he was upset. But the lesson that had been drilled into from birth was never to stare at people.

He was having trouble with that lesson at the moment.

It was extremely difficult not to look at those in front of him. He stared at High King Peter. During his reign, he'd been a man of great stature, tall and muscular, with glowing blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Instead of the man whose features were undeniably kingly, Caspian was faced with a clean-shaven adolescent, whose blond hair was cut short, with no more muscle than any other boy his age. The same went for King Edmund.

The little Queen surprised him as well. Queen Lucy was known for her thin frame that was taller than many a man, but this was a little girl! For all the battles she fought in and the men she'd killed, she looked tiny and innocent, an untried child.

But the most surprising was the elder Queen. Professor Cornelius had always told stories that had praised Queen Susan as the most beautiful woman who'd ever lived. But his entire youth, noblewomen had come to the castle, praised as great beauties, and were invariably plain at best, doglike at worst. He had suspected that she had been plain as well, and those who had desired alliances with Narnia had claimed her to be exquisite solely to reassure the men they intended for her. But Queen Susan was incredible. With her flawless features and curvy frame, her graceful poise and her kind eyes, she seemed to be more beautiful than any woman had a right to. His dreams had not done her justice.

He marvelled at the monarchs' youth. The Kings had explained their own theory of why they were nearly as young as they had been during their first visit. But he had barely paid attention. He had been looking at Susan. She had blushed and looked away, but often glanced back and smiled. So enthralled had he been with this moment that he had caught only a few words of the speech. It would seem they had gone back to Spare Oom as children, precisely as they came, and remained a year. It was a dreadful thought, the idea of repeating one's childhood.

Trufflehunter was the first to speak after nearly half an hour's silence.

"I am so honoured to meet you all, your Majesties, but we must get serious. We must find a way to encourage the Narnians to accept the Prince."

Caspian froze.

"Why wouldn't they accept me?" he inquired nervously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Edmund asked. "Whether or not you're meant to save them, they aren't going to welcome a Telmarine prince with open arms. You've been enemies for centuries, and it will take a while before they trust you."

"But they have to trust him," Lucy protested, "if they want to win. There's no possible way to win without him."

"I know that and you know that, Lucy," Peter reminded her. "But the Narnians have scars that have not healed, and we have to accept that. They might not like him, might even think he's a spy."

"What do you think, my Queen?" Trufflehunter asked Susan politely.

"I think that…" Susan seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I think that the best way to show the Narnians that Caspian can be trusted, is to show them our own faith in him."

Caspian smiled, enjoying the way she had said his name.

"Got any suggestions?" Nikabrik asked grumpily.

"Yes. I have one." Susan's smile grew.

Susan had a plan. The great Queen Susan had a plan for him to gain favour with the Narnians. He reassured himself with that. But his nerves were not eased. After all, she had not explained the plan to him; she had only told him that he would have to speak to the Narnians alone.

So now, he stood in front of the strangest Creature he had ever seen. Centaurs, Minotaurs, Animals, they were all real. And they were all screaming things at him.

"Punish him!" a Leopard cried.

"Kill him for his crimes!" a Minotaur shouted, and a Wolf howled his agreement.

Nikabrik seemed to have gotten caught up in the bloodlust, and he too was shouting out punishments, his more gruesome than most.

"Make him pay! Cut off his hands for thievery!" the Black Dwarf cried.

"I didn't steal anything," Caspian replied, his voice dangerously low. Nikabrik seemed to have betrayed him, and he'd had to deal with more than enough treachery recently.

"Didn't steal anything!" another Minotaur roared. "Show me a list of the things he's taken from us!"

"Our homes!"

"Our freedom!"

"Our lives!"

Caspian could barely keep his indignation in check.

"You would hold me accountable for the crimes of my people," he stated angrily.

"Accountable, and punishable!"

Reepicheep came to the young prince's defence at that, for which Caspian was eternally grateful.

"Ha!" the Mouse scoffed. "That is rich coming from you, Dwarf! Or need I remind you that it is your people who fought alongside the White Witch?" He smiled smugly as Nikabrik searched for a response. The Dwarf recovered quickly enough.

"And I'd gladly do it again," he shot back, "if it would rid us of these barbarians!"

"Then it is very lucky indeed," came a very regal woman's voice from close by, "that it is not within your own power to bring her back."

The Narnians all turned to locate the speaker. They were surprised indeed to see that the woman was not alone, but joined by another girl, and two men. But they were more surprised when they realized after a moment that the four were _human_.

The shouting began at once.

"You see? He _is_ a traitor! He brought reinforcements!"

"Spies, the whole lot of them!"

Peter silenced them all with a look, and it seemed to occur to Caspian that although the monarchs may be young, they still looked regal as anyone ever had as they patiently waited for the crowd to quiet.

"Spies?" the High King said, looking a touch amused. "Reinforcements?"

"How clever of Caspian," King Edmund added. "He has the entire Telmarine army at his disposal, but he chooses instead to invade with the help of adolescents. Quite brilliant."

An angry growl ran through the crowd. They did not appreciate the fact that these boys were seemingly mocking them. Of course, the Kings were not. But the Narnians were unaware of the brothers' love of sarcasm and wit.

"Declare yourself," a Satyr growled, "before we kill you."

"I am Lucy," the youngest one started, "and these are my siblings, Edmund, Peter, and Susan."

A ripple of shock passed through those assembled. Could it be?

"Although now we seem to be known as the Kings and Queens of Old."

A Centaur came forward, his expression solemn, but his tone respectful.

"And what proof have you of this claim?"

Peter stepped forward, pulling out his sword. Immediately, the rest of the Narnians pulled out their weapons, but the Centaur remained motionless. Peter smiled gratefully, and then exhibited his blade to him.

"Does it seem familiar?" he asked, a smile on his face.

The Centaur motioned to take it, and Peter passed it over gravely. The Centaur examined it carefully, no expression disturbing his serene face. Finally, he looked up at his countrymen.

"Rhindon, the Wolf Slayer, the sword of the High King. It is unmistakable," he pronounced.

The crowd stared, dumbstruck, at the legendary sword, and the Centaur continued.

"Our ancestors kept it safely hidden in the treasure hold of the ancient rulers. The knowledge of the location of that hold has long since been lost. The only way he could have found it is if he had known the location all along, ever since it was built. There is no doubt in my mind. This is High King Peter, and these are his siblings. They are the ancient rulers of Narnia, the ones of the prophecy. And so the Telmarine is not a spy. He is the Prince we have waited for. We are the ones that shall fight, to regain Narnia's ancient freedom. We will serve them."

This was the undoubtedly the longest speech that Glenstorm had ever pronounced, but that was not the reason for the stunned expressions all around. The awed silence was heavy but pleasant.

But naturally, Nikabrik _had_ to ruin the moment.

"The prophecy said nothing about our freedom. It said that there would be a massive war to help the filth regain his crown," his voice grew louder and angrier. "Who's to say that if we put him on the throne, he won't be as terrible as the rest of them? Who's to say that any of us will live to see free Narnia? Who's to say that he won't betray us all?"

"We say it," came Queen Susan's voice. It was as gentle as always, but there was an edge of steel to her words. "You're all so quick to insist that we do away with Prince Caspian, that we're better off without him. Don't you realize that without him, we'll just stay in the woods for another thirteen centuries? You would not take a risk, and follow him. Why? To wallow in the dirt, the same way you must do now?"

Edmund spoke up.

"We have to take risks here. Perhaps you loathe him because of his ancestors. Is that it?"

There came roars of agreement. The King continued.

"And yet, you sit happily with Minotaurs and Satyrs, and Black Dwarves. They served alongside an ancient enemy as well, and yet you sit next to them, without a worry in your mind. Why is that?"

"We've been tortured, we've had to deal with common enemies!" Nikabrik yelled.

"A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes," Trufflehunter pointed out.

Lucy replied this time.

"So why is it that you do not accept Caspian now? Miraz tried to have him murdered, which makes him an enemy. If you have a common enemy, why do you refuse to unite with him?"

The crowd was once again at a loss for words, except Nikabrik, of course.

"He's been raised with Telmarine beliefs. You can't trust him."

"I trust him," Susan replied, and Caspian realized with horror that he was blushing at her words. "We have known each other but a few hours, and yet I would trust him with my life. He is worthy; there is no doubt. He can help us."

Caspian smiled gratefully at her, willing the blood to leave his cheeks.

"I thank you, my Queen."

She smiled back at him, her beautiful eyes sparkling, and he noticed some blood rushing to her cheeks as well. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed that.

"He is trustworthy." Glenstorm's were a fact, not an opinion.

"How do you know? How can you be so sure?" a Faun inquired. He seemed to have been softened by the Queen's words.

The other Centaurs seemed to realize what Glenstorm meant, and smiled.

"We Centaurs watch the sky. And what we have seen is Alambil, the lady of peace, joined together with Tarva, the lord of victory. This Son of Adam will lead us to victory, with the ancient rulers at his side. We will have our home back once again."

"Do you really think there could be peace? I mean really?" Patterwig the Squirrel's speedy voice reminded the Pevensies of how Lucy talked when she had too much sugar.

Caspian looked over at Susan, and she smiled encouragingly.

"Two days ago," he began, "I didn't believe in the existence of Talking Animals, or Dwarves, or Centaurs. Yet, here you are, in numbers far greater than we Telmarines could have ever imagined."

Susan smiled. He was born for speech making.

"With this horn, I have brought back the greatest leaders Narnia has ever had. And all of us together, united, we can defeat Miraz's army, and take back what is rightfully ours."

He smiled as he saw the admiration and loyalty in everyone's eyes. Even Nikabrik could only grumpily point out:

"You still haven't given Queen Susan her horn back, boy."

Caspian glared at him for a moment, and then faced the lovely girl apologetically, her horn in hand.

"My apologies, my Queen. I did not mean to keep it from you."

Susan smiled sweetly.

"Might you keep it for me? Until we find a place to stay, I risk losing it. You should hold onto it for me."

"My Queen, I dare not - "

"Please," she interrupted, placing her hand on top of his, trying not to smile at the way it warmed her, "watch over it."

She smiled, and he realized the subtext of the conversation.

"I trust you with it."

She trusted him with the Narnians too.

The Narnians started to smile at the sight. Glenstorm stepped forward.

"My sons and I are for you. We offer you our swords."

Reepicheep came to the front.

"And we offer you our lives. Unreservedly."

It was quite a sight to behold, as the various creatures came to pledge their loyalty to him. But the part that Caspian would always remember the most vividly, the most fondly, was that Susan's hand was still on his own, still making his skin tingle. He always treasured that memory.

Susan smiled as she walked. The Narnians had announced that they had a location in mind where they could build their camp, although they would not say what it was. She was wondering about this when she caught Caspian's eye. He smiled and came over to her.

They walked peacefully in silence for a few minutes, until he finally spoke.

"I, uh," he said, looking rather nervous, "I wanted to thank you. For helping me back at the Dancing Lawns."

She tried not to grin at that.

"We all helped you," she reminded him.

"Yes, you all helped me," he amended, not quite meeting her eyes. "But you helped more than I ever could have asked for, and I wanted to express my gratitude."

He finally looked into her eyes, and she was taken aback by the sincerity in them. But more than hat, she was taken aback by how dizzy and light the action made her feel. She reluctantly looked away.

"The Narnians are … scared," she said after a moment. "And Narnians' fears are my brothers and sister's fears. They sympathise with them, and they know you very little. They can't help but be a little bit worried."

"And you? Are you afraid of me? Do you worry about what I can do?"

"No." There was no trace of hesitation or doubt in her voice, only absolute trust.

"Why not?"

"I trust you. I thought I had made that clear," she teased lightly, her eyes glittering. "You are honest, and you are kind, and you already care for the Narnians. You are an ideal King."

Caspian froze as he considered that.

"I will be King."

"That never occurred to you before now? You've been raised all your life, knowing you'd King."

"Yes," he acknowledged, "but there was always someone there to do my duty for me. But now, I must be an actual ruler, in the midst of a war, no less."

"Well, we'll be there," she reminded him, and his eyes seemed to brighten at the thought. "We'll guide you while we're here, and we'll do our best to teach to be a great King."

"If one must teach me to be a beloved ruler, there is certainly none more appropriate for the task than yourself," he said, smiling mischievously.

"Charmer!"

"I am honest," he said. His voice was soft, and - dare she say it? – tender. "You must have had no problem gaining the love of others. It would be simple for you to do so."

Susan had no idea how to respond. She'd had many men say such things to her over the years, but they had never said it like _that_. They had been pompous, as if she'd achieved something quite useless, something that they themselves would never need. But Caspian said it with admiration, and something else she could not name.

It excited her.

She stared at him, and he stared at her. He moved a tiny step closer to her, and her heartbeat raced. He opened his mouth, as if to speak.

But Peter chose that moment to stroll over, casually – or not so casually – between Caspian and Susan. He spoke politely, but there was a warning edge to his voice. He said that it was late, and they would set up camp for the night, and did Caspian approve?

Caspian responded stiffly, seemingly irritated with the High King. Susan couldn't be sure if that was how he felt, but she knew she knew it was how she felt.

As Peter _casually_ led her away from Caspian, towards the women's camp, Susan glanced back over her shoulder. Caspian was looking at her.

And she liked it.

**Okay, that was Chapter Four! Once again, I am so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry that I haven't updated in a while, but if it makes you feel any better, I've got some killer finger cramps in my pinkie. Ouchie!**

**So, I hope you liked this chapter. It was very difficult, writing all those speeches. I repeat, finger cramps!**

**Please review! They make me smile!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, we're up to chapter five! I'm happy! I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, because I feel happy every time I read them!  
Onwards with the next chapter! There's a little more Suspian interaction in this. Actually, quite a bit more interaction in this one.  
Disclaimer: [Eye roll]**

* * *

Caspian had always been a forceful person. He'd been strong, passionate, and the very power of his personality had been apparent, even when he had tried to make himself invisible. He'd been very certain if himself, and very noble.

So why was it that now he was nervous and tongue-tied like a little boy?

Well, that was certainly a rhetorical question. He knew the answer. He could claim that it was because he was surrounded by creatures that he had always thought were imaginary, but that wasn't true. He could claim that it was because he had come face to face with the greatest rulers Narnia had ever seen, but that wasn't quite true.

The real reason was one of the rulers in particular. Susan. Naturally. She seemed to be his most dominant thought at all times, especially since the incident at the Dancing Lawns. He smiled as he remembered how well she'd defended him, painting him as a hero.

He wondered what that had meant. Did she think he would make a good King, or had she spoken on his behalf for a more personal reason? Perhaps she cared for him as well…

He shook his head at the thought. It was wishful thinking. There was no way the legendary woman cared for him. It was madness. She did not care about him, no matter how much he may want her to do so.

And yet…

_No, no, no!_ He had to stop thinking of such things. He was going to drive himself insane!

He couldn't stop himself from looking over at Susan. She was lovely, smiling widely at something her sister had said. She looked away from her sister in mock offense, and her eyes landed on Caspian. She looked at him for a moment, her sky eyes twinkling, and then she looked away, her cheeks an inviting shade of pink.

He wondered why she blushed when she looked at him. It couldn't be for the reason he blushed – much to his own horror – whenever he looked at her.

He felt quite bold all of a sudden. He walked over to her, and her lips parted and her eyes grew wide. She seemed terribly excited by his intention to speak to her.

But before he got close enough, Glenstorm walked over.

"Your Majesties," he said respectfully, "we are approaching our destination."

"And what might that be?" Peter asked. "No one's actually told us where we're going."

"We are going to Aslan's How."

Caspian was thrilled. Professor Cornelius had talked about the How many times. But the Kings and Queens looked confused.

"Aslan's how we what?" Edmund asked, befuddled.

"No, Your Majesty," Caspian began.

"Edmund," the young King corrected.

"Edmund," Caspian amended, "Aslan's How is a shrine to Aslan. It was built a few years after your, uh, departure."

"There it is," Glenstorm announced.

The humans stopped short.

It was a large structure, grandiose and imposing, yet beautiful and inviting. It was the perfect monument to Aslan, because it was _like_ Aslan.

"It's wonderful," Susan breathed, and Caspian was distracted for a moment by how much he enjoyed the sound.

"Shall we?" Lucy invited, and they strode towards the How, royalty simply dripping from them as they went.

Caspian could only stare, completely paralyzed, as Centaurs lined up on either side of the entrance, and pulled out their swords, creating a shining archway over the monarchs' heads.

Peter, Edmund, and Lucy made their way forwards, smiling serenely, but Susan stayed back for a moment.

"Aren't you coming, Caspian?" she asked quietly.

"This procession was meant for the four of you," he replied.

Susan smiled.

"It's how the Narnians welcome their leaders," she smiled again. "That includes you."

Before he could argue she slipped her own arm through his own, and they walked ahead, ignoring the surprised noises their countrymen were making.

He always treasured that memory as well.

* * *

Susan ignored Peter's weighty stares as she removed her arm from Caspian's, albeit reluctantly. She savoured the feeling of their proximity, but she hid it well.

She was aware of the way her family was staring at her. She could feel Peter's irritation, Edmund's amusement, and Lucy's enjoyment. But they were all droned out by her own giddiness. It had been a bold move, to touch Caspian in such a manner, but he had not protested at all.

She realised that it was entirely possible that he had not wanted her to touch him like that, but she banished the thought. She was still buzzing from being so close to him. She'd been close enough to smell him, the scent of hot sun and oiled leather. She wondered briefly how he would smell if she pressed her nose to his neck…

_No, no, no!_ She was being ridiculous! She had just met him, and she was having such thoughts about him. They were impossible!

But highly pleasant.

She shook her head, clearing her mind for a moment. He was standing farther off, which allowed her to think clearly. She wondered how they would fight, where they would fight, which soldiers they would bring. There was much to be considered, and very little time to consider it.

Peter seemed to read her mind.

"Glenstorm," he called, beckoning the Centaur, "is the army well equipped?"

"What is your definition of well equipped, my King?"

"Do we have enough weapons to supply the soldiers?"

"At the moment, the Creatures that will be fighting all have weapons, my Liege."

The Pevensies looked at each other for a moment, completely puzzled.

"How did you manage that, Glenstorm?" Edmund asked after a moment. "I don't suppose you've all had access to swords and such whilst you were in hiding."

The Centaur smiled thinly, which is the equivalent to anyone else bursting into laughter.

"The Centaurs had seen a victory in the stars, and assumed there would be a battle. We raided a Telmarine camp not two days ago."

Peter and Edmund shared a smile and Edmund mumbled something about a five-finger discount, but Caspian ignored the senseless phrase, something occurring to him.

"Glenstorm, what camp could have been close enough that you could sneak in without being noticed?"

Glenstorm's smile disappeared.

"The Telmarines have made their camp near the river Beruna," he answered gravely. "They seem to be making a bridge."

The royalty all stared at each other in horror.

"They're coming to the forest," Peter stated blankly. "The battle isn't far away."

"Then I suppose," Susan said determinedly, grabbing her bow, "that it's time to train the warriors."

She walked outside, her face a mask of resolution that astounded and inspired the Narnians and her family.

Caspian was the only one to notice the way that her hands were shaking.

* * *

A few hours later, a group of Narnians stood outside, all aiming their bows at a target.

"And fire!" Susan called out, and arrows flew through the air, but not a single one hit the target. Susan prayed that she was seeing it wrong, and looked hopefully at Trufflehunter.

"Nope," he called back at her, "not a scratch!"

Susan's heart sank.

"It's alright," she reassured them all, not sure if her positive tone had any of them fooled. "Rome wasn't built in a day."

"How long did it take?" a Satyr muttered.

"What's Rome?" a Faun muttered back.

"It's just a phrase," Susan replied, despair seeping into her tone. "We've been at this for hours. Perhaps now would be a good time for a short break. Come back when you're ready."

The Creatures slunk off, smiling apologetically at her as they went.

Susan just stared at the target, and then raised her own bow, taking aim. But before she could let the arrow fly, a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, hitting the dead centre of the target.

She looked around in surprise, and then her eyes fell on Caspian's grinning face.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he greeted her respectfully, but his eyes danced with satisfaction.

Susan's cheeks pinked.

"Caspian, was that you?"

"Yes," he replied, walking closer to her, smiling at her pleased expression.

"It was a good shot," she complimented, and he beamed with pleasure.

"I thank you, my Queen. I had heard you were practising, and I could not resist the idea of testing my own skill, and measuring it against yours."

Susan's smile disappeared.

"I suppose you think you could better," she asked, vexed by his words. His eyes immediately grew wide with remorse, and she smiled at how worried he was that he'd offended her.

"I did not mean to suggest such a thing, my Queen," he said quickly.

Susan smiled mischievously.

"That's a shame," she replied, and he seemed puzzled by the look in her eyes. "I had hoped to find a worthy opponent. I suppose I never shall."

Caspian was surprised by how much he enjoyed her playful banter.

"Pick a target," he answered at last, lifting his crossbow.

Susan tore her gaze from him, and looked over at the tall trees.

"See that pinecone?"

He smiled as he caught sight of a large pinecone on the lowest branch.

"No problem." He raised his crossbow and aimed.

"No, not that one," Susan corrected.

Without thinking, she put her arm on his own to help him aim for a pinecone much higher up. Her cheeks burned as she realised how close she was standing to him, and she was acutely aware of the fact that Caspian was staring at her.

What she was not aware of was the fact that his eyes were full of desire.

Finally, a moment or three later then required she stepped back and he brought his gaze to his intended target. His arms sagged in shock.

"Are you sure that's not an acorn?" he inquired, confusion in his eyes.

"Too far for you?" Susan teased. He looked at her with determination, and then he shot.

The bolt missed the acorn only by an inch. Susan gazed at Caspian with admiration, and he seemed to be full of pride.

"Nice shot," she breathed. Caspian wished she'd stop breathing her words in such a way. It brought his mind to the most inappropriate places.

"I was trained by the finest in the Telmarine army," he pointed out.

Susan's eyes glittered with mischief again.

"Well, if that's best they've got," she took aim herself, "we may stand a chance after all."

He looked at her, befuddled by her words, and then she shot. He watched, entranced, as the arrow soared through the air, and then pierced the pinecone, bringing it the ground.

"Incredible," he breathed, and she glowed with satisfaction.

"Thank you, Caspian," she whispered. Would the butterflies that came when she said his name ever cease? She hoped not.

He chuckle at something, and she turned to face him.

"Have I done something amusing?" she asked, a hurt note creeping into her voice.

"No, of course not!" Caspian's eyes searched hers to make sure she was not offended her before elaborating. "It's just, I have dreamed my whole life of how noble the Great Queen must have looked when she shot off her arrows. But the actual image is nothing short of astounding."

His heart skipped a beat as she smiled at him.

"I had always dreamed of meeting you," he continued softly, "but I had never imagined that you would be so wonderful. I had worried that perhaps you were not all perfect."

"We aren't perfect," she corrected quietly. "But why did you worry about it?"

"I have always wondered why you left. Why _did_ you leave?"

Susan stared sadly at the ground and he worried for a moment that he'd actually made her cry.

"We didn't know we were leaving," she answered, undeniable sorrow in her eyes and her voice.

Caspian cocked his head.

"How did you leave without realising? I should have thought it obvious."

Susan gave him a melancholy smile.

"Do you know how we first came to Narnia?"

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. "You disappeared from your home of Spare Oom in War Drobe. You appeared in Narnia."

Susan started laughing the saddest laugh he'd ever heard.

"Typical. Lucy forgets to enunciate properly, and we end up getting stuck with _that_ for all eternity."

"What do you mean?" he asked bewildered.

Susan cracked a smile.

"We're not from Spare Oom or War Drobe. As far as I know, those places don't exist. We were born and raised in Finchley, England; an utterly unremarkable place, with no magic, no grandeur, not so much as a castle. And there are _lots _of castles in England."

She looked over at the handsome Prince, and she could see him processing this at a furious rate.

"Would you like to hear about my life, Caspian? The bits they never taught you about, where I was nothing more than an ordinary schoolgirl. It's a very long story, but I can try to condense it."

"If Your Majesty allows," he answered gently, "I will hang on your every word."

Susan smiled and took a deep breath.

"I was born in England, a year after Peter, two years before Edmund, and three years before Lucy. We were much the same during our childhood as we are now. Peter was wilful boy who hated to share his toys, but who massacred any child that bothered the rest of us.

"Edmund was quiet, petulant at times, but he loved a good joke more than anyone, especially one that involved one of us embarrassing ourselves. He always came to assist Peter in the pummelling of a bully.

"Lucy was always the little ray of sunshine. She laughed constantly, and smiled at us as if we were the most important people in the world. She looked at my father the ways she looks at Aslan: with utter worship."

"And you?" Caspian interrupted. "What were you like?"

"This will go by faster if you don't talk," she reminded, amused.

Caspian made a big show of shutting his mouth and motioning her to continue.

"I was the clever one, the responsible one who always had her nose buried in a book. I was always being praised for the most ridiculous things, namely the fact that I was 'such a pretty little child.' So I tried to hide away, and avoid people, especially the mean boys who would pull my pigtails.

"We were not rich. We had no titles, and our only land was our house and the little yard behind it. But we were happy. My friends told me about the tension and irritation they felt towards their families, and I didn't understand a word. The Pevensies didn't have much, but we loved each other fiercely. We lived in a bubble, separated from the bitterness of the rest of the world.

"And then that bitterness spilled over. A massive war broke out. It stretched across the whole world, and England was at the heart of it. England was fighting another country, Germany, and they needed soldiers. My father enlisted in the war. The bubble broke, and suddenly the bitterness was up to our necks.

"When he left, we started to change. Peter's wilfulness became stubbornness, my responsibility became dullness, and Edmund's sense of humour turned cruel. Only Lucy didn't change much, but we suddenly found her positivity to be awfully annoying. We thought she didn't understand how serious this all was.

"The way we had changed, it bothered us all. We couldn't stand to spend time together. We were angry, all the time. And then we were attacked. Finchley was in danger. And so a program started to ship children off to the countryside to keep them safe from attacks.

"Mum told us we were going to be taken in by a professor. We'd stay in his country estate. We were lucky by anyone's standards, except our own. We were miserable.

"Then one day, it rained. We couldn't go outside, and so Lucy convinced us all to play hide and seek. We ran around the house. Lucy was only gone a moment, and yet suddenly we heard her screaming that she was back, and that we didn't have to worry. She told us she'd been gone for hours, visiting with a faun named Mister Tumnus, in a place called Narnia. We thought she'd lost it.

"Edmund went to the bathroom that night, and he saw Lucy sneak into a _wardrobe_, in the _spare room_. He followed her, and wound up in Narnia, where he met the Witch. But when he got out and Lucy announced that Edmund had gone to the magical land, he denied it. Like I said, he had become cruel.

"But the day after that, we were all playing outside, when Edmund sent a ball sailing through a window, and he broke it. We were terrified. The housekeeper, Mrs. McCready, would be furious. We ran to find a hiding spot, and we ended up in the wardrobe."

Susan stopped and collected herself. Caspian was indeed hanging on her every word.

"You've surely heard everything after that. But you didn't hear the details of that day, years later.

"We had heard reports of a talking Stag of Narnia, the rarest creature in Narnia. It's said that if you catch it, it will grant your heart's desire. We had many things to do that day, but we couldn't resist. It was challenge, with a wonderful prize.

"We snuck off at dawn. We chased the Stag for most of the day, and we'd nearly caught up with it, when Edmund stopped to let his horse rest. We waited patiently for him, until we realised how familiar the place seemed. We'd been there before, but we couldn't remember when.

"Lucy rushed over to something. She seemed to remember some sort of tunnel in the trees. We all went over, looking around. We found the tunnel and walked through. We realised that the branches had given way to hanging coats. We got farther and farther, and we found a door. Our minds were screaming not to do it, because it might be dangerous. But we couldn't help ourselves. We opened the door and tumbled out.

"And suddenly, we were children again. We came back to the precise moment we'd left. The Professor was even carrying the ball we'd broken the window with. We were quite literally in our own personal hell.

"We tried to go home. We spent two months checking every square inch of that wardrobe, hoping to find a way back. We got very worried. Had it been weeks, months, perhaps even a year since we'd left? We panicked. Perhaps something had happened to the Narnians.

"Eventually we went back to Finchley. We gave up on finding a way home. But we had changed. Not the way we changed when the war started. Our personalities did not worsen; they disappeared. We were bodies with no souls. Our souls had stayed in Narnia."

Susan ducked her head, but Caspian saw a tear glisten on her cheek. Without thinking, he reached over and brushed it away with his thumb. She looked up at him, her face a mask of agony.

"Do you know what the worst part was? Knowing that it was our own fault, knowing that we had brought this on ourselves. We were reckless and stupid, and we abandoned Narnia. We deserved every second of our misery."

Before she could register what had happened, Caspian took her face in his hands, and looked her in the eye with a determined look on his face.

"You did not abandon Narnia, my Queen," he swore. "You never meant to leave, and you are not at fault. You did not know where you were going, and you did not know that you could not come back. You left by mistake, but I swear to you, you did not abandon Narnia."

She only stared at him for a long moment, and he grew embarrassed by his forwardness. He started to pull away, but she grabbed one of his hands and kept it pressed to her face. After a moment she turned her head and kissed his palm. It sent heat up his spine.

"Thank you," was all she could say.

He looked at her, and then he moved in closer, lowering his mouth closer and closer to hers. When he was barely a few inches away, they heard Trufflehunter call out:

"Your Majesty, perhaps we should resume practice now?"

They both flinched, and cursed the badger to the deepest pits of hell. Susan reluctantly turned to face him.

"Yes, that's probably a good idea!" she called out.

She turned to face Caspian, a sweet look in her eye. She hugged him gently, all too aware of how it made her body burn. She tilted her head to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you, really," she whispered, and he shivered. "I can't tell you how you've helped me. Perhaps one day you'll tell me of your family. I promise to try to help."

He smiled and kissed her knuckles.

"I look forward to it, my lovely Queen."

* * *

**Woo hoo! Fifth chapter finished!  
I'm sorry for the delay, but it seemed like such a threatening chapter, even though it actually wasn't that difficult in the end.  
Review please. I deserve some sort of compensation for all these finger cramps!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh my god, I am so so so sorry for the late update, but it's the busy season for my theatre company, and I just finished with two shows. But I'm guessing you guys don't care. I can only offer up a tentative promise to do better next time.****Anyways, chapter six!  
Disclaimer: I own the box set of Narnia books, but nothing else except this plot.**

Susan was tired. Not even the exhaustion she had felt back in England could compare to her weariness this morning. She had secretly hoped that now that she knew the identity of the man in her dreams, they would cease to plague her mind. And they had the night before. But now the dreams were back.

She thought back to the previous night, when Caspian had comforted her fears. She smiled at the memory. He had told her they hadn't abandoned Narnia, he had held her…

He had almost kissed her.

She tried to tell herself that it was not true, merely wishful thinking, but the way he had come closer to her, looking deep into her eyes, mouth coming closer still… she could hardly contain her hope that perhaps he _had_ wanted to kiss her. If he had kissed her, she had a feeling that she'd have spent the day unable to stop smiling.

"Susan? Su?" Edmund's voice knocked her out of her reverie.

"What is it, Ed?" she asked, reluctantly leaving her daydreams behind.

He pretended not to notice the silly grin she'd had on her face. He had always teased her less than the others.

"It's time for the meeting, to discuss our plan of action now that the Telmarines have been spotted."

Susan made a face.

"Oh, joy. You know how I love war councils. They really brighten my day."

A wicked grin appeared on Edmund's face.

"Cheer up, Susan. It won't be all bad," he reassured her teasingly. "Caspian will be there."

I said he teased Susan less. I never said he didn't tease her at all.

* * *

Caspian sat against a rock, utterly bored, watching the Narnians file into the Stone Table Room. They were to discuss the appropriate plan for how to deal with the ever-approaching Telmarines. He already knew what he was going to say, so he resorted to people-watching.

Queen Susan walked into the room and he quickly stood up, unconsciously smoothing his shirt. She smiled sweetly at him, and he advanced towards her, but Peter quickly called attention, and both Caspian and Susan glared at his intrusion.

"Alright, we all know why we're here," Peter announced, and Caspian struggled to remove the dirty look from his face. "We delayed strategic planning to train and prepare our supplies. But a Faun has spotted a Telmarine soldier close to the camp. We're running out of time. Miraz's men and war machines are on their way. That means those same men aren't protecting his castle."

Caspian hoped that he was misunderstanding where Peter was going with this. Or else the boy had gone completely crazy.

"What do you propose we do, Your Majesty?" Reepicheep asked respectfully.

"We need to defend–"

"We need to attack-"

The Prince and the High King stared at each other for a tension-filled moment. A noise came from Edmund that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Finally, Caspian nodded his head, allowing Peter to continue.

"Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us," Peter announced to the crowd. Caspian had let him speak first for _this_?

"That's crazy, no one has ever taken that castle," Caspian insisted.

Something remarkably close to a smug smile crossed Peter's face.

"There's always a first time," he commented. Caspian wondered whether Susan would be upset if he beat the tar out of her brother.

"We'll have the element of surprise," Trumpkin added in, and Caspian fantasized about dropkicking the little traitor.

"But we have the advantage here," he shot back, willing them to understand how hopeless their mission was.

Susan stepped forward.

"If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely." Caspian felt a warm glow spread through at the thought that Susan had defended him.

He noticed that Peter was glaring at his sister for not siding with him, and Caspian once again imagined hitting him. What a child.

"I for one feel safer underground," Trufflehunter announced.

Peter looked over at Caspian.

"Look, I appreciate what you've done here," one tiny hit couldn't do any harm, "but this isn't a fortress. It's a tomb."

"Yes," Edmund agreed, but Caspian knew that he wasn't being prejudiced, only a little battle-hungry, "and if they're smart, the Telmarines will just starve us out."

Damn, he hadn't thought of that. It was true.

"We could collect nuts," Patterwig chirped in.

"Yes, and throw them at the Telmarines," Reepicheep chimed in sarcastically. "Shut up. I think you know where I stand, Sire."

Peter looked over to Glenstorm.

"If I get your troops in, can you handle the guards?"

Caspian felt furious. Peter was going too far. He was whittling away Caspian's supporters, one by one.

Glenstorm looked regretfully at Caspian, and the young man tensed in anticipation.

"Or die trying, my Liege."

Caspian looked away from the Centaur, the one that had, only a few nights ago, pledged his loyalty to the Prince.

"That's what I'm worried about," came Lucy's small voice. They all looked over at her.

"Sorry?" Peter asked incredulously.

"We're all acting like there's only two options. Dying here, or dying there."

Caspian was amazed by the little girl's wisdom. But she wasn't really a little girl, was she?

"I'm not sure you've really been listening, Lu," Peter dismissed.

"No, you're not listening!" she argued. "Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch?"

An angry look crossed the boy's face.

"I think we've for Aslan long enough. Meeting adjourned."

He walked out of the room. After a moment Susan hurried after him, looking very angry.

Edmund rushed over to Caspian.

"I know you're upset right now, but I can think of something that'll cheer you up." Even Lucy cracked a smile.

"What do you mean?" he asked, baffled by the excited looks on their faces.

"Susan never disagrees with Peter too much, when we're around other people," Lucy explained, hopping up and down. "But when the meeting's over she goes to yell at him. We listen in. it's usually very entertaining. Would you like to come as well?"

"I do not think they would approve of us being there."

A devilish smirk crossed Edmund's face.

"When did we ever say they knew we were listening?"

Before he could protest, Lucy grabbed him by the hand and they ran down the hallway. They peeked around the corner, and caught sight of Susan following Peter into a room and shutting the door.

"Run!" Edmund hissed and they all bolted towards the door, pressing their ears up against it and listening intently.

Susan's voice came through the door.

"Peter Pevensie, you are a complete and utter prat!"

That _did_ make him feel better.

"What have I done now, Susan?"

"You are being completely juvenile! Has your silly rivalry with Caspian actually gotten to the point where you'll defend a terrible plan just to spite him?"

"Susan." Peter's voice sounded weary, as if he were dealing with a cranky child. "I proposed we attack the castle because it's the best plan."

"How could that possibly be the best plan? We've never even seen this castle, we can't strategize properly!"

"Caspian knows everything about it, I'm sure."

"Yes, all we have to do is have the army read Caspian's mind and we'll be set!"

"Susan, our other option is to wait like sitting ducks."

"It's better than rushing in blindly!"

"Caspian will help us."

"Because that's the only thing you'll allow him to do, isn't it?" Susan's voice lowered and sounded very dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are so very immature that you won't allow Caspian to make decisions. You can try to pawn your decisions off as better strategies, but I know what they are. It's you not letting someone else have control. You're nothing but a little boy that won't let others play with his toys!"

"Susan, I am High King of Narnia, and what I say goes!"

Edmund and Lucy's faces lit up like the sun.

"Wait for it…" Lucy whispered happily.

A muffled thump was heard, followed by a groan.

"What just happened?" Caspian whispered.

"Susan just kicked Peter!" Edmund announced quietly.

"She kicks people? The Gentle Queen?"

"Only Peter, and only when he's being stupid. She may be Susan the Gentle to the rest of the world, but to Peter she's Susan the Lead-footed."

"Shh! They're starting again!" Lucy hissed.

"Peter Pevensie, you are not the only ruler of Narnia! We get a vote, too! Lucy and I both think we shouldn't attack!"

"Edmund and I think we should."

"Caspian agrees with us!"

"The armies agree with _us_."

"Peter, you are such a child sometimes!"

"I'm the childish one? Come on Su, we both know the reason why you're siding with Caspian."

"Oh? And what might that reason be?"

"You're siding with Caspian because you lik-"

_Thump_. Groan.

_Because you what? _Caspian thought. He wished Susan had not interrupted her brother, although he agreed wholeheartedly with her method of doing so.

Susan's voice became no more than a hiss, and three eavesdroppers had to strain their ears to listen.

"This plan is nothing but trouble, and if you carry it out it will only lead to disaster. I beg you not to do this."

"I know, Su," Peter sounded very melancholy, "but we have no other choice."

"There's really nothing else that can be done?" Susan sounded resigned to the decision.

"Nothing," Peter affirmed, sounding as resigned as his sister. "We have to fight. There's nothing else to be done."

Caspian could picture the despair on the Gentle Queen's face.

"When do we strike?" she asked quietly.

"Midnight tonight," her brother answered apologetically. "There'll be fewer guards then."

"Tonight! We can't possibly be prepared by then!"

"We really can't put this off any longer, Su."

Caspian heard a throat clear, and then Susan spoke once again, sounding more like a determined queen than a sad girl.

"I have to go dress for battle then," she announced.

"Maybe it would be better if you sat this battle out," Peter suggested. "Just this once."

"Trust me, Pete," she answered, "you'll need every warrior you can get. This is going to be a difficult battle."

* * *

Susan smoothed her battle dress, and settled herself down on top of a ledge of the How. There were hours to go until they moved in for the battle, but she was too anxious to train. She always got this way before a battle. She watched the sun set beyond the horizon, wondering grimly how many soldiers would live to see the next sunset. So many good men doomed to die. She knew the battle would not be won, but if they just waited for the Telmarines, they would all perish. And if they were all destined to die, they would die on a battlefield, with honour.

Her bleak musings were interrupted as someone settled down next to her.

"Good evening, my Queen," came Caspian's deeply accented voice. It was ridiculous how the mere sound if his voice, or even his presence affected her so strongly, reducing her to a giggling schoolgirl on the inside.

"Caspian," she greeted him, "what brings you here?"

"My Queen," he responded, a smile touching the corner of his mouth, "the Narnians are very fond of the philosophy 'Eat, drink, and be merry.' Telmarines believe in solemnity before battle. Some generals even forbid their soldiers from speaking in the hour before the fight. Admittedly, this is extreme, but I am not in the mood to celebrate. Why are you out here though?"

"I've never celebrated before going into battle. I am the Gentle Queen after all."

Caspian looked confused.

"But, your Majesty," he pressed, "you have never gone into battle before."

It was Susan's turned to be confused.

"Of course I have. Where did you get such an idea?"

"I read it in my history books, your Majesty. They said you had never fought in a war."

Susan contemplated this for a moment, and then her face lit up.

"I know what happened!" she exclaimed. "Most of the wars Narnia fought in were wars against my attempted suitors. I never fought in those, because peter and Edmund thought that if I were on the battlefield, the man would fight harder to impress me. Or simply carry me off the battlefield and force to return to his kingdom. So I stayed away during those fights. But in wars that were not directly related to me, I fought alongside the rest of my family."

Caspian looked somewhat upset about this.

"Caspian, is something wrong?" Susan inquired worriedly.

He looked bashful.

"I must confess that the idea of you on a battlefield worries me greatly," he admitted.

"Why?" Susan demanded, greatly offended. "Do you think I couldn't handle it? I'll have you know that I can deal with battle perfectly well, thank you very much."

"It is not that," he reassured her quickly. "I am just worried that someone would hurt you."

"You are not opposed to me fighting _this _battle," she argued.

_Yes, I am!_ Caspian thought to himself, but responded diplomatically.

"But you will not be alone now. You will have someone looking after you."

"Who?" she asked, trying to squash the traitorous hope that filled her.

"You will have m- uh…" Caspian stammered, trying to cover up his slip. He had almost said she'd have him. He was being forward. "You will have … many men protecting you."

"I would have them anyways," she reminded him, trying to hide her disappointment. She had thought for a moment that he'd say she'd have him. It was wishful thinking.

"It is a lovely night, isn't it?" he said quickly, trying desperately to change the subject.

She looked at the horizon. The sun had disappeared entirely during their conversation, and the stars had begun peeking out. She unconsciously laid back to admire them and, after a long moment of hesitation, Caspian laid down next to her.

Susan looked at the twinkling canopy above her head. It was somewhat different from when she had lived in Narnia.

"There are some stars that have appeared since I was last here. And a few others have retired."

"Retired, my Queen?" Caspian seemed to be questioning her sanity.

"Well, you can hardly expect them to do it forever, can you? Eventually they retire and live out their days peacefully."

"The stars are balls of gas, not people, your Majesty," he corrected her. To his surprise, she laughed.

"I've met retired stars, Caspian. They're people in this world. Very special people, but people nonetheless. You know, the Telmarines would thrive back in the other world. Their beliefs match up quite nicely."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome," She giggled slightly, and Caspian's heart melted at that. "That constellation, right above us, what do the Telmarines call it?"

He peered at it for a moment, and then recognized it from his astronomy sessions with Doctor Cornelius.

"It is the Sabre, my Queen," he answered. "You see how the line makes a blade, and the cluster makes a handle?"

Susan made a face.

"The Narnians call it the Rose. The cluster makes a flower, and the line makes a stem. I like that quite bit better than a weapon."

"Of course you would, O Gentle One," he teased, smirking mischievously.

She shoved him playfully.

"Bloodthirsty, aren't you? One would expect that of a Telmarine."

Caspian's smile faded. Susan had been joking when she had said it, of course. But he knew that if any other Narnian besides her said it, they would not be smiling. Whether they trusted him or not, the Narnians, and Peter in particular, still saw him as a bloodthirsty Telmarine, whether they were conscious of this belief or not.

Susan misinterpreted his sombre expression.

"Oh, Caspian, I'm sorry!" she cried remorsefully. "I didn't mean that! Not at all!"

Caspian quickly reassured her.

"No! That had not been what I was thinking. I was just thinking that if it had been anyone else, they would have meant it. They still see me as the vicious Telmarine."

Susan didn't respond. They contemplated the stars in complete silence for a long minute, the only sounds coming from the party indoors.

"They're wrong, you know," she spoke up at last.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"You aren't just some vicious killer," she elaborated. "I may not have known you for long, but I know that you are probably one of the kindest people I have ever met. And the Narnians will come to realize that with time. They doubt you now, but sooner or later, they'll realize that you are the best ruler for them, not a violent monster. They'll see your greatness eventually."

She smiled over at him with great warmth in her eyes, and it took all of his self-control not to grab her and kiss her then and there.

"Thank you, my Queen," he said quietly, trying not to choke on his emotions for her.

They returned to their quiet contemplation of the sky. Shortly afterwards, they nodded off.

* * *

Caspian awoke a couple of hours later to find Susan curled up against him, with his arms encircling her. They must have shifted in their sleep. He marvelled at how perfectly she fit in his arms, and found himself wishing that he could always wake up like this.

He unthinkingly dipped his head down and dropped a kiss upon the crown of the beautiful girl's head. He smiled and took in her amazing scent before it occurred to him how inappropriate their position really was. If anyone saw them, it would humiliate Susan, which he would not permit.

He knew that he should let her go and return to the Narnians. The proper thing would be to remove himself from the ledge, and Susan would be none the wiser. But a part of him refused to abandon Susan, especially with their wonderful position at the moment. In the end he compromised and carefully pulled away, but stayed on the ledge.

He could feel someone's gaze on him. He quickly turned back to see Edmund smirking at him in amusement. He had seen everything. He opened his mouth to explain, but Edmund just raised a hand to silence him. He walked over to Susan and nodded her awake.

"Come on, Sleepyhead," he prompted her, "it's time to go. We have to fight."

This roused Susan immediately. She got up and headed back inside. But before she left, she sent Caspian one more shy smile. He smiled in return. When she disappeared from view, Edmund turned to face the blushing prince, grinning broadly and sing-songing.

"Someone's in lo-"

"Oh, shut up," Caspian growled. Now was not the time for laughter.

Now was the time for battle.

**

* * *

It has been an appalling amount of time since my last update. I acknowledge that. But I hope this made up for it a little bit. If it helps, the finger cramps are worse than ever!****If the falling asleep scene offended you, then you should really toughen up! The dang thing is rated T!  
**

**Please review  
****I'll love you  
****Please review  
Please, please do!**

**Yay, pathetic poetry!**


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